Page 83 of Bride of Choice

“Bia’ hut by Gopher.” A small, sheepish smile stole over his face, a hint of that sweet shyness to him that had gotten me into this mess with him in the first place peeking.

Not knowing what to say to that without sounding like I was desperate, a sad ex, or a little bit of all of the above, I shrugged and mumbled, “Cool.”

Gopher swallowed thickly, the small, hopeful tip of his lips falling at my lack of reaction.

What did he expect? I’d be over the moon?!

Not knowing what to do with that boy, I focused on putting one foot in front of the other and breathing while I walked. It was cold enough it proved an easy enough distraction attempting to manage the feat.

“Jo happy?” Gopher garbled out into our longstanding silence.

“Peachy,” I was quick to reply.

We were close to the hut marked on the map, I noted as I pretended I needed to look at it every few minutes, anything that kept me from spilling my guts out to the guy. I miss you and your stupid kisses. Hold me!

I would not be that girl, the sad sap, pathetic one that breaks down crying as she tries to tell the guy how much he hurt her.

“Gopher… Gopher not happy,” he rumbled out softly.

“Why ever could that be,” I muttered under my breath. It was more rhetorical than anything. I was in a spicy mood with this dude, so sue me. Maybe stop practically throwing me away from you, hm?!

“Gopher bad male,” he told me.

His admission had me stopping dead in my tracks to stare at him. Raising a single eyebrow at him, as if to say Oh? Do tell? I waited.

Fidgeting in place, licking his lips far too often, throat working, he nervously croaked out. “Bad male for Jo.”

“Do you have that Lavi-shavi-doody-whatsits thing going on that I’ve heard mentioned before?” Deciding to cut the shit, if he wanted to have this all out, we weren’t about to dance around anything.

When he gave a short, reluctant nod, I dipped my chin in acknowledgement.

“Are you really that worried you might hurt me?” I continued.

His second nod was more vigorous, even as his skin flushed that funny Lo denaii bluish tint tinged with light purple and pink edges more common amongst hybrids.

“Is there really nothing that can be done for it?” I pressed.

His head shake this time was much more reluctant, like he’d never heard of one before.

Hell.

“Did you- Did you know you had this when you tried to mate me?” My voice broke as I spoke. I couldn’t help it. This was his problem as much as it was mine— maybe it was selfish of me, but I felt swindled, blindsided. And to top it all off he had this air of despair clinging to him that made me want to reach out and hug his ass, all that shit be damned, and comfort him.

“Jo.” The male didn’t say my name, he breathed it, uttering it so softly, sweetly, my chest ached to hear it.

Let me fucking love you! Grrr.

Before I knew what was what, he had me in his arms, curled into his warmth, pressing me to him in a breath stealing hug.

“Gopher no want no one but Jo,” he choked out, hugging me to him even tighter, to the point I had to tap at him to let me up.

“There’s got to be some way…” Pulling back, I eyed him. “What if I lead? What if we tie you up so you can’t get all GRRR, baby, RAWR all over me but you know, not go full caveman or whatever?”

Gopher’s expression went from hopeless to What the hell do you wanna do to me, woman? in seconds flat.

“Oh, please, like the idea of me riding you like a bull at the rodeo doesn’t intrigue and titillate. You’re too young to be this stuffy.” A soft harrumph left me. Dropping my gaze, I pretended interest in the depths of my big yellow purse as he continued to gape at me. A simple no would have sufficed. Spoilsport.

What the hell else were our options?

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